


Hugs

by wendymarlowe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Implied Mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymarlowe/pseuds/wendymarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fill for a kinkmeme prompt: "Could someone write me some nice, fluffy protective!John cuddling the hell out of a terrified Sherlock?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hugs

“Sherlock, do you-” John dropped his bag on the floor and lunged for his flatmate, who was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands and moaning. “Sherlock. Sherlock! Are you okay? What happened?”

Sherlock turned his face away and groaned louder.

“Are you sick? Are you high? This is not normal behavior for you.” John sat on the sofa next to him, closer than was their norm but not close enough to actually touch. “Talk to me, Sherlock. Please.”

“Wun tum brar day,” Sherlock mumbled.

“Didn’t quite get that, sorry.”

“I went to talk to my brother today,” Sherlock enunciated with exaggerated diction.

“And he said something that upset you.”

“Never got that far.”

“Sherlock, are you . . .” John took a deep breath, scooted closer, and draped an arm around his flatmate’s bony shoulders. “It’s okay, yeah? Whatever happened, it’ll be okay.”

Sherlock froze for a moment, then suddenly leaned his entire weight against John’s chest. John nearly toppled, but caught his balance just in time and pulled Sherlock into a full-on hug. Sherlock’s forehead was crushed into the shoulder of his second-favorite jumper and he was probably getting snot all over it and it was okay, really, this was new but it wasn’t unwelcome and they both just sat in each other’s warm embrace for several more seconds.

“This feels good,” Sherlock said quietly.

“Yeah, hugs are like that.”

“I’ve never had a hug feel good like this before.”

“Then you’ve been hugging the wrong people.” John pulled back, just a fraction, just enough he could make Sherlock meet his eye. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, you know. You’re my friend and I’m going to be here for you no matter what. The hugs come standard.”

Sherlock snorted, a wet sound against John’s collarbone. “I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t be surprised. But I’ve never been able to sort Mycroft out the way I can with nearly everybody else. It throws me off, sometimes.”

“Pretty sure he likes it that way.”

“Yes, well.” Sherlock glanced up again, caught John’s eye, and pulled a face. “I walked in on him and DI Lestrade. Neither of them were wearing clothes and I would be very happy deleting the sight of what my brother _was_ wearing, but unfortunately it’s been scorched into my brain and all that’s left is to burn down my mind palace and salt the earth.”

John stifled an entirely inappropriate giggle. “You may be overreacting, a bit.”

“You weren’t there. If anything, I’m showing admirable restraint in not burning down Mycroft’s living room as well.”

“The things you suffer for your genius.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and frowned. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

“Maybe a little.” John rubbed the heel of his hand over Sherlock’s back in gentle circles, silently willing him to relax. “Feeling a bit better?”

“A bit. But - would you mind terribly staying here like this for a while?”

John smiled and let his cheek tilt down to brush his flatmate’s curls. “As long as you need, mate. As long as you need.”


End file.
